supply of meat ran short. During one of these dull spells, when the
company was pressed for horses, Brigham was hitched to a scraper. One
can imagine his indignation. A racer dragging a street-car would have
no more just cause for rebellion than a buffalo-hunter tied to a work
implement in the company of stupid horses that never had a thought above
a plow, a hay-rake, or a scraper. Brigham expostulated, and in such
plain language, that Will, laughing, was on the point of unhitching
him, when a cry went up--the equivalent of a whaler's "There she
blows!"--that a herd of buffaloes was coming over the hill.

Brigham and the scraper parted company instantly, and Will mounted him
bareback, the saddle being at the camp, a mile away. Shouting an order
to the men to follow him with a wagon to take back the meat, he galloped
toward the game.

There were other hunters that day. Five officers rode out from the
neighboring fort, and joined Will while waiting for the buffaloes to
come up. They were recent arrivals in that part of the country, and
their shoulder-straps indicated that one was a captain and the others
were lieutenants. They did not know "Buffalo Bill." They saw nothing but
a good-looking young fellow, in the dress of a working man, astride a
not handsome horse, which had a blind bridle and no saddle. It was not a
formidable-looking hunting outfit, and the captain was disposed to be a
trifle patronizing.

"Hello!" he called out. "I see you're after the same game we are."

"Yes, sir," returned Will. "Our camp's out of fresh meat."

The officer ran a critical eye over Brigham. "Do you expect to run down
a buffalo with a horse like that?" said he.

"Why," said Will, innocently, "are buffaloes pretty speedy?"

"Speedy? It takes a fast horse to overhaul those animals on the open
prairie."

"Does it?" said Will; and the officer did not see the twinkle in his
eye. Nothing amuses a man more than to be instructed on a matter that
he knows thoroughly, and concerning which his instructor knows nothing.
Probably every one of the officers had yet to shoot his first buffalo.

"Come along with us," offered the captain, graciously. "We're going to
kill a few for sport, and all we care for are the tongues and a chunk of
the tenderloin; you can have the rest."

"Thank you," said Will. "I'll follow along."

There were eleven buffaloes in the herd, and the officers started after
them as if they had a sure thing on the entire n